Eveillez: Deny Your Blood Lust Read Online Free Page A
about it.
"I'll take that as a yes ." Armand turned and pulled a bottle of Glenfiddich from the top shelf. Grabbing two shot glasses he filled them to the brim and roughly set the bottle aside. Nodding toward the full glasses, Armand took one and waited.
Kevin hesitated.
"Don't worry. I need it as much as you do."
It was a weakness he despised, but he did need it. The moment he picked up the shot glass, Armand met it with the one in his hand. "To making sure Lohr gets everything he deserves."
He could definitely drink to that. " Sláinte!"
When the empty shot glasses hit the bar, Armand moved them aside. He took a few deep breaths. "How else can I help?"
"Why don't you tell me who was in Lohr's coven?"
Despite his declarations of wanting to help, when he paused before answering, Kevin knew immediately whatever came from his mouth would only be part of the truth. "Lohr was not a regular here, and like I told you before, I do not get involved with the covens. So besides Satin…" That one was easy. She was dead. "…I recommend you speak with Darus."
That one was also easy. Last year, Armand had nearly beaten the man to death before turning him over to the police. The records didn't actually say as much, but it was implied.
"What about Angela Hopkins—Angel?"
"She's not in Lohr's coven." His answer was immediate.
"If you don't get involved in the covens, how do you know?"
"She has her own."
"Coven?" Kevin meant to say the word in a neutral tone, but like every time he tried to use the vampire lingo, it came out with a hint of disdain.
"Yes, Detective." Armand stepped back from the bar. It was clear body language he was done with the conversation. "I wish I could help you. I really do. I purposefully don't get involved in the covens and I definitely did not know about any other victims. And you must remember Lohr is a public figure who capitalizes on his vampire image. With his art and the Forever Dark Vampire Ball, his involvement in the Community spans decades and continents. Anyone seriously involved in the Community has come in contact with or worked with Lohr Varius. That doesn't mean we, or they, are buddies."
While Armand might be protecting members of Lohr's coven by not mentioning them by name, Kevin believed him when he said he didn't know about additional victims. The quick dismissal of Angela Hopkins definitely piqued his interest, though. She was high on his list of people to question.
Finishing the coffee, he set the empty red glass on the bar and checked the time. Ms. Hopkins was scheduled to perform at nine-thirty. He obviously wasn't going to get anything more here; he might as well jump ship and swim to more plentiful waters.
Rising from the barstool, he pulled a card from his wallet and set it on the bar. "Hey, thanks for the shot."
"Anytime."
"If you think of anything else…"
Armand took the card. "You're the first person I'll call."
He seriously doubted that.
* * * *
With practiced hands, Angel carefully applied extravagant false lashes to her eyelids. She wore them so often, barely any glue was wasted, and she always placed them perfectly the first time. The entire routine had become practiced ritual: makeup—and lots of it, fake lashes, lipstick, glitter, fangs, and occasionally a bindi or two, depending on the performance.
At one time, prepping for a show excited her, added to her performance jitters. Now, it was as engaging as brushing one's teeth.
She wasn't sure what had changed in the last year, but found she was growing more and more disinterested with not just performing, but everything. There wasn't anything else she wanted to do—performing was in her blood—but she wished she could recapture the enjoyment she once found in it and life.
Her naturopath had recommended an array of holistic treatments, many of which she already employed. Yoga, meditation, physical exercise … these were already daily activities for her. The herbal supplements only gave her
"I'll take that as a yes ." Armand turned and pulled a bottle of Glenfiddich from the top shelf. Grabbing two shot glasses he filled them to the brim and roughly set the bottle aside. Nodding toward the full glasses, Armand took one and waited.
Kevin hesitated.
"Don't worry. I need it as much as you do."
It was a weakness he despised, but he did need it. The moment he picked up the shot glass, Armand met it with the one in his hand. "To making sure Lohr gets everything he deserves."
He could definitely drink to that. " Sláinte!"
When the empty shot glasses hit the bar, Armand moved them aside. He took a few deep breaths. "How else can I help?"
"Why don't you tell me who was in Lohr's coven?"
Despite his declarations of wanting to help, when he paused before answering, Kevin knew immediately whatever came from his mouth would only be part of the truth. "Lohr was not a regular here, and like I told you before, I do not get involved with the covens. So besides Satin…" That one was easy. She was dead. "…I recommend you speak with Darus."
That one was also easy. Last year, Armand had nearly beaten the man to death before turning him over to the police. The records didn't actually say as much, but it was implied.
"What about Angela Hopkins—Angel?"
"She's not in Lohr's coven." His answer was immediate.
"If you don't get involved in the covens, how do you know?"
"She has her own."
"Coven?" Kevin meant to say the word in a neutral tone, but like every time he tried to use the vampire lingo, it came out with a hint of disdain.
"Yes, Detective." Armand stepped back from the bar. It was clear body language he was done with the conversation. "I wish I could help you. I really do. I purposefully don't get involved in the covens and I definitely did not know about any other victims. And you must remember Lohr is a public figure who capitalizes on his vampire image. With his art and the Forever Dark Vampire Ball, his involvement in the Community spans decades and continents. Anyone seriously involved in the Community has come in contact with or worked with Lohr Varius. That doesn't mean we, or they, are buddies."
While Armand might be protecting members of Lohr's coven by not mentioning them by name, Kevin believed him when he said he didn't know about additional victims. The quick dismissal of Angela Hopkins definitely piqued his interest, though. She was high on his list of people to question.
Finishing the coffee, he set the empty red glass on the bar and checked the time. Ms. Hopkins was scheduled to perform at nine-thirty. He obviously wasn't going to get anything more here; he might as well jump ship and swim to more plentiful waters.
Rising from the barstool, he pulled a card from his wallet and set it on the bar. "Hey, thanks for the shot."
"Anytime."
"If you think of anything else…"
Armand took the card. "You're the first person I'll call."
He seriously doubted that.
* * * *
With practiced hands, Angel carefully applied extravagant false lashes to her eyelids. She wore them so often, barely any glue was wasted, and she always placed them perfectly the first time. The entire routine had become practiced ritual: makeup—and lots of it, fake lashes, lipstick, glitter, fangs, and occasionally a bindi or two, depending on the performance.
At one time, prepping for a show excited her, added to her performance jitters. Now, it was as engaging as brushing one's teeth.
She wasn't sure what had changed in the last year, but found she was growing more and more disinterested with not just performing, but everything. There wasn't anything else she wanted to do—performing was in her blood—but she wished she could recapture the enjoyment she once found in it and life.
Her naturopath had recommended an array of holistic treatments, many of which she already employed. Yoga, meditation, physical exercise … these were already daily activities for her. The herbal supplements only gave her
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